


All of you

by Splinter



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Comfort Sex, Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Furiosa is the most eaten out character in fandom history, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Movie(s), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, wasteland politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8740099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splinter/pseuds/Splinter
Summary: He’s behaving as if they have all the time in the world, as if he has nothing to do but this, nothing he wants to do but this. Fill for the smutty_arts art prompt challenge, inspired by youkaiyume's beautiful NSFW art .





	1. Chapter 1

Furiosa finishes her work too early. 

She had planned it this way, scheduling a short project for the morning, then powering through it. Now she finds herself with too much time to fill before the convoy comes. There’s a tight, sick feeling in her stomach, a tension she can’t shake out of her shoulders.

A trade delegation is coming from the Bullet Farm today, the first from the new leadership there. Negotiations will be led by Cheedo, Capable and Corpus, but other members of the council will be present, to welcome and assess the new Bullet Farm. In Furiosa’s case, to act as muscle. 

It matters that she’s part of the new council. Not just because she drives the rig, not just for her part in the revolution, but as a link to the past. Her authority – or, to put it another way, her known capacity for violence – makes it easier for other warlords to take the new Citadel seriously. When she joins the negotiations today, she does it as an imperator, even if no one ever calls her that again. 

Back in her room, she starts washing off the sweat of the garage. She won’t be painting her forehead, won’t do anything to recall those days. She doesn’t have to. She just has to carry herself in a particular way, wrapping her reputation around her. She’s earned it, all the guilt and blood of it, and has no right to let it go now. But she washes slowly, as if that will put the moment off.

There’s a knock at her door. It’s Max, who was waist deep in an engine last time she saw him. He must have finished at double speed. 

Furiosa is cleaning up to steel herself for the next few hours, but Max is definitely grubby. He obviously washed his hands before leaving the garage, but there’s a smudge on his cheek, and his hair is rumpled even by his standards. He smiles at her, the small, quiet smile that was the first she’d seen from him, and starts to undress. 

She towels herself dry, watches as he starts to wash his face. Her clean shirt is waiting for her on the end of the bench – her oldest shirt, the one with wrapped wife fabric. She sits down, but doesn’t reach for it. She should get dressed, she should.

Max is watching her, standing at the washbasin with a crumpled brow. He comes over when he realises she’s noticed, crouches down to look her in the face. She doesn’t know what to say to him, has to push herself to meet his gaze. 

After a moment, he leans in and kisses her tummy.

It’s the lightest brush of his lips, one hand warm on her thigh. He shifts, settling his weight so it doesn’t rest on his bad knee, and goes on kissing her, very soft and gentle. 

They’re tiny little kisses, over and over, until her skin is tingling under his mouth. She can feel the tickle of his scruff, not long enough to be called a beard, and the heat of his breath. She shivers. Max looks up at her, very serious, then presses his face against the curve of her belly. When he pulls away, it’s to kiss her again.

She can feel herself starting to relax, some of her tension ebbing under his mouth. Max makes a pleased rumble, sliding one arm around her, and begins to kiss his way downwards. 

Nudging her legs a little wider, he presses an unhurried line of kisses over her thighs, nuzzling against her pussy. She’s wet, her breath coming harder as he kisses and kisses her. When at last he parts her lips, he licks her very gently, working around her clit. It’s still very soft, but it’s teasing, too, making everything shiver. He’s behaving as if they have all the time in the world, as if he has nothing to do but this, nothing he wants to do but this. She reaches for his hand. He laces their fingers, holding tight as he moves in to her clit.

He works her up slowly, licking and then sucking, firmer and firmer. Furiosa is gasping, trying not to make more noise. He moves his other hand to her cunt, circles before slipping in one finger, then two. She’s already twitching as he moves inside her, his fingers finding where she’s sensitive, pressing and stroking. 

He knows her. He knows everything about her, knows what she’s been and what she’s done, how to comfort her and how to make her moan. She’s sitting here, waiting to go out as a warlord, and he’s taking her apart with a gentleness that makes her sob. 

Max squeezes her hand when he hears her, lifting his head. She looks down at his wet mouth and dark eyes. His gaze is steady. He can see all of her, and he’s still here. She rests her nub in his damp hair, strokes clumsily. He smiles again, and leans back in to lick. She comes shuddering, clenching around his curling fingers.

Furiosa slumps back against the rock wall, open and bare, sweat on her back and in the creases of her thighs. She feels shaky, trembly to her knees, but the sick feeling has gone. When Max gets up to sit beside her, she leans against him, feels him put his arm around her. She pushes into him, wants the closeness.

The klaxon sounds outside. It’s from the signallers, reporting that the convoy has left the Bullet Farm. Max is warm and solid beside her, his cock more than half hard. She wants to climb onto him, to feel him inside her again. She needs to get ready.

“I want…” She sighs, presses against him. There isn’t time. 

“After.” He nudges her to get up, passes her the shirt.

She washes hastily, gets into her clothes. Max tugs on his own shirt, waits to see if she wants help with her arm. Sometimes she does, the bodice and prosthetic going on easier with another pair of hands. Today, she needs to do it by herself. She fastens the stiff leather corset around her waist, pulls on the harness. She does up the buckles with a sharp tug, a rhythm that is now four thousand days old. It’s another tough layer over the place he had kissed.

She’s still in plenty of time to watch the convoy’s approach. As she reaches for the door, Max kisses her neck, the space between the pauldron and her brand. It’s as soft and sweet as his tummy kiss had been. She lets herself lean back against him, just for a moment, before she opens the door. When she heads for the lift, fully armoured and ready to be steel, the place on her neck feels warm.


	2. Chapter 2

He can still taste her. 

Max is leaning against the wall in the council chamber, acting as a visible bodyguard while the council work on their negotiations with the Bullet Farm. Furiosa stands near the door, present but not sitting at the table. 

He wouldn’t have made it this far if he didn’t know how to do several things at once. He’s used to reading past the distractions of a situation, his instincts working through pain or panic. Watching the two teams picking their way around each other, he can’t afford to miss any of the byplay, while keeping an eye out for potential physical threats. It’s like reading the desert despite its mirages. This time, his perceptions lie on top of a silvered haze of desire.

He had stroked himself off as soon as she left their room this morning, but it hasn’t made much difference. His cock stirs when he looks at her now.

He remembers the first time he saw her, the way she’d looked at him then: curiosity, not interest exactly, but a hint of sympathy. He had felt a jolt of something like recognition, even though he’d never seen her before. 

She is steel, and he knows how much that costs her. Not the strength and competence, which are natural to her, but the way she’s suppressing all the other things she is. Going back is painful; of course he knows that. He’s been running for thousands of days.

There’s been a lot of shuffling to get everyone into position. The Bullet Farm delegation brought plenty of guards, all bristling with ammunition belts in different calibres. The Citadel has made a show of peacefulness, with the sisters in flowing robes and Vuvalini embroidery, though Toast has kept at least one of her gunbelts. 

It’s not going well. The new leader is given to bluster. Trying to patronise the Citadel team, he explains not only his bullets but their water. He even calls Furiosa “Imperator”.

“I don’t use that title any more,” she says, mildly enough. A few minutes later, he does it again, obviously intending to needle her. She looks at him, not even raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t try it again.

Max wonders how long this Bullet Farmer will last, wonders who’ll be next. His lieutenant is quieter, sharper, more on top of the information, while staying deferential. He may be in the chief’s seat soon; he may prefer to keep pulling strings from his present position.

The third member of the visiting team is a woman – perhaps a sop to Citadel values, given the rest of this team’s dynamics. She’s close to the Sisters’ age, around seven thousand days, with a surface assertiveness. Once she tries a girls-together line, joking about running around after these men. None of the Citadel women respond. As the negotiations continue, she gets more watchful, less perky, paying particular attention to Toast.

The negotiations grind on. The new Bullet Farmer threatens to leave at one point, huffy when Corpus restates the Citadel’s minimum negotiating point. 

“You can’t drink bullets,” Toast says, flatly. It brings the visiting team back to the table, but that’s the end of the pretend friendliness. 

The Citadel’s minimum is accepted. It’s not a bad deal, but it’s a limited solution, not touching the longer-term goals they’d had in mind, let alone their hopes for more equitable distribution at the Bullet Farm. As the visitors leave, the woman glances back at Toast. The whole Citadel team watch them drive out until they’re several klicks distant, then return to the council chamber for debriefing.

There’s frustration, and relief. Toast is angry, more disappointed than Capable, who had pushed the most optimistic line but bounces back more readily when that fails. All three Sisters seethe over the intended slight to Furiosa. She shrugs it off, but can’t help smiling at their fierceness. Cheedo spots the messiness of the Bullet Farm’s team, a power structure that isn’t quite working.

“That second-in-command,” Furiosa says, thoughtfully. Max nods.

At last the atmosphere loosens, the stress of the meeting talked out. The girls suggest moving to the green room, Capable pushing Corpus’s chair. She looks back to make sure everyone knows they’re invited, though Toast announces she’s going to do spend some time on the firing range. Gilly offers to join her.

“I’ll turn in early tonight,” Furiosa says, touches Capable’s shoulder. She lingers in the room until it’s just her and Max.

“I want you.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He’s been thinking it all day.

“Yes.” Her voice is hoarse. He makes a slight move towards her, and she’s on him, as quick as a lizard. Even in a fight, he’s never seen her move faster, her hand in his hair and her metal arm tight around his waist.

They’re clamped together, groping and sighing, his hand cupping her face as he kisses her. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve fucked somewhere public, though the council chamber would be new. It’s not what he wants tonight, not after a day of waiting, not after this morning. 

He wants all of her, doesn’t want to fumble through clothing. He wants her thighs and her breasts, her naked back and her belly. He wants the way she lets go when she feels safe. And he knows she needs to feel safe today.

“Upstairs.” It’s a minute before he can break away to say it, several more before they make it out of the room. Furiosa grips his hand as they leave, fingers laced, walking close enough that they bump shoulders. It’s not until they pass a former milking mother, who does a discreet double take, that Max realises that this may be the first time they’ve held hands where other people can see. He has no time to think about that. They’re almost at her room. The wash of lust and need and want is overwhelming. 

Inside, he falls into her, his lips on her throat, her arms back around him. He tugs at her wrapped shirt, pulling the end that will unwind it. There’s a tearing sound – just stitching, he thinks, where the different layers of fabric are sewn together. She doesn’t stop, yanking the shirt out from under her bodice and over her head, dropping it on the floor without so much as a look at the damage. His cock is twitching, hard and urgent, his fingers tangling in her trouser fastenings. He kisses over her bare shoulders, the straps of her harness, her breasts.

When they’re both undressed, she backs him to the bed, climbing into his lap almost before he sits down. Max kisses her breasts again, sucking at her nipple until she moans. 

Getting his hand between her legs, he rubs at her clit, feels her shiver. She’s already so wet that he slips two fingers straight into her. He doesn’t want to rush, but slowing down isn’t easy, not when she rocks against his hand, clenching around him. 

He grips her waist, easing her over in his lap to change the angle, getting his thumb onto her clit as his fingers curl inside her. She’s pushing into it, her metal arm cold on his shoulder. When she comes, she’s almost silent, just a few hard gasps as the wave of it hits her. 

After a moment, she pulls away, standing up and nudging him to sit further back on the bed, so she has room to kneel astride him. Keeping her prosthetic hand on his shoulder, she grasps his cock and sinks onto it, slow and deliberate, opening herself up. He can feel her muscles flex as she grinds down, as if she wants him as deep as she can get him. Once she’s fully seated, she pauses for a moment, panting. 

Max starts to stroke her, running his hands over her in long, soothing touches, trying to get at the tension still simmering under her skin. He kisses her neck, working up to her lips. A pulse goes through her cunt – not a deliberate clench, but one of the times her body takes over, makes its own choices. She gasps at it, sinks a little deeper onto him. He keeps stroking her, feels her push closer, wrapping her arms around him. When he slides one hand to her bum, she begins to move.

She rocks her hips, a slow grind that’s about getting enough friction while holding him deep inside her. He groans when she squeezes at him, when she gives another of those shivery pulses. 

Furiosa is pressed so tight against him that he has to wriggle his hand to get it between them. She shudders when his fingers reach her clit. She’s not far off coming, he thinks, so he strokes slowly, trying to stretch this out. She’s gasping louder, moaning when another shiver goes through her. He kisses her, his hand cradling her head, her buzzed hair soft against his palm. 

She says his name as she starts to come, says it a second time when she flops against him. Her body has gone meltingly soft, a warm weight pressing into him. Max feels his own rush start, tipping him into orgasm. He’s holding her and thrusting up into her, her thighs bracketing his hips and her belt buckles digging into him.

For a long moment, they sit tangled together, her breath warm against his cheek. 

“Furiosa.” He says it out loud, stroking her back, her thigh. She reaches down to her belts, unfastens them as she kisses him, slow and wet. He catches the prosthetic arm as the straps come loose, lets it slip gently to the ground. When she starts undoing her leather corset, he turns to ease her onto the bed, laying her down. Her face is unguarded, finally free of the strain she’s been holding in all day.

“Furiosa.” He says it again as he helps to unwrap her bodice, not knowing what else to say. She is so much, naked and open and here with him. Her arm is close around his shoulders as he kisses her face, her neck and shoulders, down to the soft, bare skin of her belly.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at [lurkinghistoric](http://lurkinghistoric.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


End file.
